Fiction
Every house in the city of Chardonnay was built in 2005, has three-too-many gables, and a tiny, superfluous balcony adjacent every laundry room. Families in Chardonnay pose frozen in circular driveways waiting for …
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“I lived on one side of the city and worked on the other. Although I could easily have taken what residents called the Innerloop or Outerloop highways between my apartment and the office, I chose to drive the major avenues instead …”
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“The red death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal — the madness and the horror of blood.”
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“Her tongue hasn’t always been this way. She’s pretty sure it was round and pink and human-like when she was born. It’s taken a steady diet of coffee and swear words to get her to this point, but now it’s unavoidable.”
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Carla Myers, an award-winning author of fantastical and flash fiction, brings us this loopy, lyrical tale of verbivorous squirrels and their habit of snatching sentences out of the air and burying them for the winter.
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“Consciousness,” by Ceridwen Hall, examines the self through the rearview mirror of Philip K. Dick’s sedan. Who’s driving? And who are the passengers? And where are we going, anyway? Is that a signpost up ahead, or just a mirage on the highway?
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